Not so bad when you get used to it
by KannaOphelia2019
Summary: Aziraphale Falls. Crowley deals with the fallout. Aziraphale/Crowley *** "ONE ANGEL? ONE SOUL IS NOTHING, CROWLEY. I SUPPOSE YOU WANT SOME KIND OF REWARD." "You know me so well." "WHAT IS IT?" "Isn't it obvious?" He leaned forward, as if putting his mouth closer to the speaker would make any difference. "I want Aziraphale." On the radio, Kylie Minogue laughed.


Aziraphale's Fall wasn't anything dramatic, not like the first War in Heaven, or the Rebellion of the Watchers.

It was a lot of tiny drifting movements downwards. Opening a hole in a wall. Giving away a sword. Befriending a demon. That first lie to the Almighty. So many little lies, little questions, little compromises. Denying orders, going against the Great Plan, possessing a human, literally going into Hell. Twisting and turning on light breezes, inexorably downwards, further and further from Her, but borne up by so many currents of happiness and pleasure and love that he didn't really notice the direction, or see how far he had gone.

The moment he finally stopped drifting above the surface and settled gently on it was the moment when he had finally crossed the line between fraternising with a demon and consorting with one. Sweaty and glowing and spent, he smiled up at a laughing mouth and fiercely triumphant eyes, and meant to pull Crowley down for a final kiss.

Instead the bed melted away beneath him, and he dropped gently into Hell. Alone.

"So," Crowley said smugly, "have I redeemed myself?" He lolled back in the Bentley seat.

Beelzebub's reply buzzed through the Blaupunkt. They might have been more impressive if they hadn't been currently speaking through the voice of Kylie Minogue, but you couldn't have everything. "ONE ANGEL? YOU THINK ONE ANGEL IS ENOUGH TO GET YOU BACK INTO THE GRACES OF OUR MASTER?"

"How is He feeling?" Crowley asked sympathetically. "Sure of His own existence again?"

"SHUT UP! ONE SOUL IS NOTHING, CROWLEY."

"The first Fall in four thousand years," Crowley countered. "A direct replacement for Ligur—better, as Heaven will have no replacement unless they recruit humans again like they did with Sandalphon and the Metatron. And you know it's never just one angel. He'll take others with him, just like Lucifer and Samyaza."

"A PRINCIPALITY," the voice of Kylie Minogue scoffed.

"A Principality who rebelled in front of an entire platoon, and faced our Master, and survived execution. Give him a high enough rank and let him keep his cushy place on Earth, and the others who watched him and didn't fancy dying on the battlefield will think it over soon enough."

"'Cause it's true, what they say-ay-ay-ay, it's better the devil you know," wailed Kylie, which Crowley hoped was a sign Beelzebub was thinking it over. He waited.

"I SUPPOSE YOU WANT SOME KIND OF REWARD."

"You know me so well."

"WHAT IS IT?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He leaned forward, as if putting his mouth closer to the speaker would make any difference.

"I want Aziraphale."

On the radio, Kylie Minogue laughed.

"How are you feeling, angel?" Crowley sat over on his side of the Bentley seat, not daring to come close enough to touch.

"Don't call me that." His hands were clutched tightly around the chains on his chest, as if they were hurting him. Crowley remembered what the weight was like, at first, until you got used to it, and guilt clutched sickeningly at his heart.

"Aziraphale—"

The fallen angel convulsed as if he had been kicked in the stomach. "Don't. Call me. That." His breath rasped through his throat.

"What name did you choose for yourself?"

"Naberius1," he said hoarsely.

"Naberius. Good choice, I'll get used to it," Crowley said, although he felt like he was lying, using the name of a stranger. My angel, my Aziraphale, sang his heart. "Your eyes are pretty," he said, truthfully this time. He missed the murky blue eyes, but these were just as round and clear amber. The eyes of a heron. And the same sweet soul looked out from behind them, demon or not, he was sure.

"I have telescopic vision now."

"Well, that's one good thing." Crowley said. "Useful. You won't need reading glasses anymore." Crowley couldn't restrain himself, he surged forward and wrapped his arms around the other's neck, leaning his head against a stout shoulder, spilling out names that had nothing to do with demon or angel. "Oh, darling, my love..."

There was no protest, no blame, but also no hand on his head, no tenderness or acceptance. Crowley looked up, and Aziraphale, no, Naberius looked blank and terrified, sitting stiffly.

"Love, don't look at me like that. You know I would never hurt you."

"You can do what you want with me. Wasn't that the terms of my Fall?"

"Oh, an—darling, no. I never wanted, I never meant—I just needed to make sure you were safe here with me, and not stuck in Hell. You've always trusted me before, even when you thought you shouldn't. Trust me now."

"A demon of your word." Crowley wasn't imagining it, the fear had faded a little, the jaw relaxing back into its soft lines.

"With you, anyway." He smiled, anxiously. "Look, it doesn't have to make any difference. You've done temptations for me before, right? And I'm your supervisor, how much work do you think I'll expect from you? Or do you think I'll punish you for doing blessings on the side?"

The fear had faded even more. "I suppose I'm lucky, having a supervisor who specialises in Sloth."

"That's right." Crowley risked a nervous grin. "We're on our own side still now, anyway. You can go back to hoarding your books, and I give you permission for unlimited miracles, and otherwise—nothing will change."

"Except that I'm cut off from Love."

"Now that," Crowley said slowly, "is a really stupid thing to say."

Aziraphale—oh, he couldn't help it, it was still Aziraphale, at least until he got used to the new name, he couldn't change six thousand years of habit all like that, was staring at him. He suddenly realised. That's what Aziraphale needed. Crowley had never said it, had he? After six thousand years, he thought it could be taken for granted, but perhaps not. He supposed Aziraphale wasn't the stupid one.

"I love you, you idiot," he said. "I adore you. You have all the love in my heart and soul, angel or demon, I don't fucking care. I defied our Master rather than risk losing you. You've been everything to me for millennia." He caught a hand and brought it to his trembling lips. It was the same hand, plump and well cared for and still warm, which was nice. He hadn't been sure if birds were warm-blooded or not. "I love you so much," he whispered against it. "I didn't mean to make you Fall. Don't hate me."

"I couldn't ever hate you. Even when I suspected you'd taken me down. My dear, dear boy."

And it was all right, Crowley moved to sprawl on his lap and was kissed, and kissed back with desperate hunger and tenderness, and after all—

Once you had Fallen, the worst was over, and there was no need to hesitate, no fears in the way of acting on love.

This time, the Bentley's seat remained firm under Aziraphale as an adoring and sated demon pressed tender kisses over his face and chest. "There you go, there you are," Crowley murmured nonsensically. "Oh, I love you so much."

"I love you too. Oh, Crowley, maybe I was always meant to Fall, because it seems worth it. Anything would be worth it to know I had you."

"Always," Crowley said. "And the rest gets easier, I promise."

"You had the courage to face it, alone. I can face it with you."

Crowley smiled against his neck. "Oh," he said, "not after Eden. I was never truly alone after that."

He felt solid arms tighten around him, and he knew it would be different, but also, he was sure, it would be all right.

1 The demon Naberius takes the form of a raven, crow or black crane, has an amiable manner, and gives knowledge in all the arts and sciences. Seemed the best choice for Aziraphale


End file.
